


Days of their Lives

by nastally



Series: Tumblr Asks and drabbles [2]
Category: Queen (Band)
Genre: Drabbles, First Kiss, Love Confessions, M/M, Memories, Multiverse, Some Silliness, Some happiness, Some sadness, Tumblr Ask Box Fic, a lot of acohol, a mixed bag, check notes before individual drabbles for any warnings, mostly pure Froger sweetness, some kissing but nothing too racy will go here
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-12
Updated: 2020-11-16
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:00:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27528046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nastally/pseuds/nastally
Summary: Just a collection of (Froger, I mostly expect) drabbles off oftumblr, for those of you to enjoy who aren't on there. ;) Not very serious writing, not very polished, just playing around!
Relationships: Freddie Mercury/Roger Taylor
Series: Tumblr Asks and drabbles [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2011978
Comments: 42
Kudos: 37





	1. Froger - Kiss Me Because Reasons

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt:  
> Froger - Kiss Me Because Reasons
> 
> Fun, sweet, first kiss, set sometime after 76, but when exactly is entirely up to you!

“But how do you _know_?” Kenny raised an eyebrow, looking him up and down over the rim of his champagne flute. “If you’ve never _tried_.”

Roger just laughed and shook his head. It was a fun afternoon - (well, it had to be afternoon by now, he was sure they’d been drinking Mimosas for at least three hours since brunch) - just one of the highlights of Freddie’s birthday week. Everyone was steadily getting quite plastered and Kenny had apparently made it his mission to sell Roger on the many joys of being gay, which both Roger and Freddie, who was bearing witness to all this, snickering, were finding very amusing.

“Who says I’ve never tried?” Roger retorted, casting Kenny a roguishly mischievous look.

Kenny gasped dramatically, one hand shooting out to grab Freddie’s arm for support. “What!”

“Oh, he’s having you on, dear,” Freddie rolled his eyes and sipped his champagne.

“Or am I.” Roger waggled his eyebrows.

Kenny’s eyes narrowed with suspicion. “No, I don’t believe it, not for a second. I don’t think you’ve ever so much as kissed another man.”

“And I’m afraid I don’t believe it’d change anything at all if I did!” Roger chuckled, admitting to his inexperience in that area, and downed the last drags of the Mimosa in his glass.

“Prove it.” Kenny purred with a smirk.

Now, Roger was not one to back down from a challenge. Especially so when pleasantly tipsy and in a room full of good friends. He narrowed his eyes in turn, one hand on his hip.

“Alright, I will.”

“What.” Freddie turned to him, his smile faltering. “Don’t be silly, you don’t have to…”

But Roger waved him off, craning his neck to look around the room.

“Oi!” he shouted, eyes locking on John, who was grazing on the delicacies which had remained on the table. “Deaks!”

Looking up at him, John picked up his own Mimosa - although it would appear he’d opted out of the orange juice part of the drink at this stage - and wandered over.

“Cheers.” He clinked glasses with all three of them as he stopped beside them, looking at Roger questioningly, simultaneously side-eyeing Freddie who had a hand over his mouth, looking on with a sort of bewildered amusement.

“I’m proving a point,” Roger informed him.

“Okay,” said John.

“Kiss me,” Roger demanded, quite seriously. “On the lips, like you mean it.”

There was a moment’s silence. John looked back at him, impassive and unblinking.

“I’ll pass.” And with that he promptly returned to the table. Kenny burst into uproarious laughter.

“Aw.” Roger pulled a disappointed face.

“Nice try,” Freddie teased.

“Shut up.” Roger stuck the tip of his tongue out between his teeth, grinning at him, and promptly reached out, seizing Brian’s sleeve as the guitarist walked by. “Bri!”

“Oh God,” sighed Freddie.

“Hey,” complained Brian, who had spilled a bit of his drink as a result. He switched hands, shaking the drops off his fingers.

“Listen - sorry, you alright - listen,” Roger said hurriedly, “give me a kiss, will you? I’m trying to prove I’m not gay.”

“What?” Brian frowned at him, confused. Roger huffed impatiently.

“Look, just come here.” He grabbed Brian by the shirt clumsily, pulling him closer.

“0h, we’re doing this,” Brian noted, swaying a little.

“Priceless,” Kenny commented, shaking his head, while Freddie squinted and grimaced, half looking away, when Brian submitted to his fate and let Roger press their lips together for a brief moment. They both pulled away and promptly snorted with laughter. Brian discreetly wiped his mouth on the back of his hand.

“See?” said Roger, turning back to Kenny. “Like kissing my sister!”

“ _Sister_?” exclaimed Brian, affronted.

Freddie turned to stare at Roger with open-mouthed shock.

“Not that I’ve ever done that!” Roger shouted, eyes wide, realising what he’d just insinuated.

“That wasn’t much of a kiss, of course…” Kenny hid behind his glass with a wicked grin when Roger turned to glare at him.

“I mean, he’s right,” Brian agreed, and lifted a finger in warning, laughing and taking a step back when Roger looked at him. “I’m not kissing you again, I’m a married man!”

Roger rolled his eyes and turned to Freddie, who choked on his Mimosa.

“Oh no, no no no…”

“Why not?” Roger cocked his head, eyebrows raised. Freddie just gaped at him wordlessly. He looked mildly terrified, and Roger shook his head with a chuckle. “Right, nevermind… Kenny?”

“Alright then, why not!” Freddie quickly interjected before Kenny could react.

“Well.” The radio DJ ran a hand over his hair, trying and failing not to look a bit disappointed. “Go on then, three seconds at least.”

“How old are you all?” Brian inquired, although no one paid him much mind.

“Three seconds,” Roger grinned and turned to his best friend, leaning a bit closer. Freddie’s dark eyes met his and Roger looked away, dropping his gaze to Freddie’s mouth. His lips were curled into a small smile. He’d never really noticed before, Roger thought, how pillowy his lips were.

“Come on, Blondie,” they murmured as Freddie tilted his chin up.

And Roger leaned in.

One. Freddie’s lips were warm and soft, as soft as they looked, and surprisingly tender somehow, moving against his just minutely.

Two. Roger felt the telltale shortness of breath, the prickle of arousal, before he could wrap his mind around what was happening, and let his lips part just slightly, capturing Freddie’s top lip between his own.

Three. Freddie exhaled a faint, shuddering breath and Roger’s mind caught up with frightening clarity. Holy shit.

He pulled back quickly and blinked, heart beating in his throat. Freddie pulled his lips over his teeth and looked away, taking a long gulp from his glass.

“There.” Roger cleared his throat, turning to Kenny with what he hoped was a winning smile. “Was that satisfactory?”

Kenny looked at him for a moment, lips pursed. “I don’t know, was it?”

“Oh, shush!” Freddie gave him a slap on the arm. “Honestly, leave the poor man alone.”

“No, no, I apologise.” Kenny inclined his head, waving his hand with a little flourish. “I stand corrected. You, Sir, are clearly incorrigibly straight.”

“To nobody’s surprise!” laughed Brian, clapping Roger on the shoulder.

“Yes…” Roger looked down into his empty glass, keenly aware of Freddie’s presence beside him, his mind a haze from more than just alcohol. “Nobody’s surprise…”


	2. Froger - X and O at the end of letters

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt:  
> Froger - X and O at the End of a Letter
> 
> Warning! Death. Sadness. But also uplifting, depending how you look at it.

This is a story about the fabric of time and space. About the multitude of realities which we are a part of during our existence on this mortal plane, the majority of which most of us remain blind to throughout our lives.

On Christmas Day 1991, late at night, Roger Taylor gingerly opens an envelope delivered to him that day via courier - once he's had enough whiskey, that is, although if its purpose is to numb then the task of subduing the depth of emotion he feels is too great for the amber liquid - and he thinks this cruel. And is exhilarated, just the same, to be holding this treasure in his hands. There will never be anything so new, now, no fresh thought nor lyric nor unread or unheard words from a man who is dead and gone. He knows that while he reads this, it will be as though Freddie is still here, one last time. And that is both unbearable and a gift more precious than he could have possibly expected this Christmas.

But time isn't linear, and the web of reality is so much more vast and intricate than we dare imagine.

For this very Roger Taylor tumbles into a heap of clothes in a too-small stall, on Christmas Eve 1969, laughing and wine drunk. The market is closing and all their friends have left now, gone home or moved on to the pub. Freddie is a lightweight and is at least just as drunk, so when he tries to pull Roger back up to his feet, he wobbles and falls on top of him instead. The laughter ebbs away as they lie, for a moment, nose to nose. A moment which dissolves as quickly as a snowflake melting on the tip of your tongue, before it’s gone. A memory of loveliness. And somewhere in time and space, Roger leans in, a hand on Freddie’s cheek.

And then again he doesn’t.

All those moments, throughout their lives, like dewdrops on a spider’s web. New, countless realities emerging from each. An argument in ‘82, “Enough, when will it be enough!” Roger yells at him, incredulous. “He shouldn’t be treating you like this! _Nobody_ should be treating you like this!” “What business of yours is it?” Freddie shouts back, pushing him away. “This is _my_ life, what gives you the right-” And Roger reaches out, pulling him back into his arms, bringing them face to face, wide-eyed and breathless. “This,” Roger utters, and crashes their lips together with all the passion, and love and frustration he feels.

Then again, he lifts his hand too late and Freddie is already out of reach, slamming the door on his way out.

They fall for each other a million times, in every way, in every moment of their lives spent together. Sometimes it only leads to heartbreak, or at worst the split of a very popular up and coming group. Many times it is too late, and more times still they are too afraid. But sometimes, sometimes in a time and place where everything seems to fall into place just right, it works.

And there, Roger holds in his hands on Christmas Day 1991 a note which he discovers once the guests have all left, placed for him on the kitchen counter.

 _Come upstairs_ , it reads, _to unwrap your present. Merry Christmas! XOXO Freddie_  
Roger shakes his head with a fond grin, his mind full of the man he loves in Japanese patterned silk, waiting for him in their bedroom, and his heart is brimful of love.

But here he sits now, in a reality much different to that, and his heart in pieces instead. Perhaps the letter is full of gratitude for Roger’s friendship, treasured and beyond words. Perhaps there are regrets, a hint of something that neither of them had the courage to admit to. Perhaps there is a confession, raw honesty in the face of an end that seems inevitable, now. And how long it takes Roger before he is able to read it, before he can see enough through his tears to manage it, who can say.

However, there unchanged, at the bottom, are the same words, though in each reality they may fill the man reading them on that night with joy, anticipation or abject despair.

_Merry Christmas! XOXO Freddie_


	3. Froger - Will They, Won't They (They Will)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt:  
> Froger - Will They, Won't They (They Will)
> 
> Haha, so this quick drabble ended up being the continuation of the first one in this collection. Enoy!

Freddie Mercury was on a mission. Unfortunately, the endeavour was proving a lot more challenging than he had originally anticipated. Freddie liked to think that he was reasonably alluring when he wanted to be. Perhaps not _irresistible_ , but he certainly had a way and - well, it wasn’t usually so bloody difficult to get somebody to kiss him!

Although perhaps the fact that this particular somebody was his bandmate and best friend and had to date only been known to be interested in the opposite sex... alright, perhaps there were a handful of things then standing in the way of his plan.

But there was nothing for it, it had to be done, because Freddie needed proof. 

Proof of what, he wasn’t entirely sure. Most of the time, the answer to that depended on his mood.

Proof that they’d simply been drunk and the excitement of the party had, so to say, enhanced the experience - was what he thought in the studio when sooner than kiss Roger, he very much wanted to strangle him because he wouldn’t stop arguing his opinion on Freddie’s latest contribution to their new album, and now had Brian backing him up, too, even though Freddie’s idea was absolutely _inspired_.

Proof that sometimes you could spend _years_ with something very special right in front of you, but never see it, until you did - was what Freddie thought, chin in his hand, watching Roger at the restaurant, waving his chopsticks about adorably as he spoke, absent-mindedly twirling one in his hand because it was second nature to him.

Freddie had to know if the way one innocent kiss, lasting three seconds exactly, had left him momentarily breathless had simply been a fluke. Or not. Because if not... truthfully, he didn’t know what an ‘if not’ scenario entailed, and he was putting off thinking about that until he was absolutely positive that he had to. But what he had thought about, more than he would have liked to admit, was how certain he was that it wasn’t just him. Roger had felt it, too. Freddie couldn’t have imagined it, the furtive glance Roger had thrown him shortly after, just before he had excused himself and gone to refill his drink. Only to avoid Freddie, or so it had felt, for the rest of the afternoon.

But the very next day everything had gone back to normal. Or so it seemed, on the surface of it. If one didn’t count the lingering looks and purely accidental or casual touches, which had _always_ been there, always, only now they felt... charged.

It was driving Freddie to distraction. And there was surely only one way to put the whole thing to rest.

However, Roger didn’t seem to think so. And the more Freddie tried to bring about a situation that might lend itself to kissing, the less he succeeded.

He’d tried staying behind at the studio, so he and Roger might be the last to leave, but Roger always seemed in a hurry to head off.

He’d tried joining him on smoke breaks, sensually pursing his lips around his own cigarette, but all it had done was worry Brian, who now thought Freddie was particularly stressed as he usually barely ever smoked.

Although there were moments... knees touching and their eyes meeting as they sat beside each other, unobserved, in the dimly lit corner of a pub. Until Roger very quickly reached for his pint and turned away. Or falling silent, all of a sudden, as they stepped into a lift together, a tension like electricity in the air before a thunderstorm arising between them as they glanced at each other. But the moment Freddie turned his head towards him, Roger would crossed his arms and started talking about the weather.

But tonight was worst of all, Freddie thought at a party late one night. His suggestion to play spin the bottle once everyone was sufficiently drunk had, interestingly enough, gone down a treat. Yet all it led to was having to watch Roger playfully kiss a whole string of people, none of whom were Freddie.

This was so oddly infuriating that Freddie very soon found himself retrieving his coat from where it had been laid out on the bed of a spare bedroom. So lost was he in his thoughts, all of them angrily revolving around Roger and how much _fun_ he was clearly having, kissing everyone but Freddie, that he yelped with surprise when he turned back to the door - only to find the object of both his desire (he was too drunk to deny it, really, in that moment) and ire standing there.

“Uh, hey...” Roger smiled and leaned the door shut behind him.

“Goodness, Roger.” Freddie huffed and adjusted his coat, which he had just put on, running a hand through his hair. “Don’t sneak up on me like that.”

“Sorry, didn’t mean to.” Roger cocked his head, piercing blue eyes regarding him with a hint of concern. “You alright?”

“Of course I am, absolutely splendid. Why in the world wouldn’t I be?”

 _Smooth, Mercury._ Freddie bit his lips, scrutinising the curtains which clashed horribly with the rug in the room. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Roger come a little closer and realised two things. One, they were alone, reasonably inebriated and this was the best opportunity to date for a repeat of that afternoon on the day of his birthday brunch. Two, he was far too upset with Roger to want to kiss him. Bloody bastard. What was he doing here anyway, shouldn’t he be out there _making out_ with all and sundry?

“I don’t know,” Roger sounded both a little wary and a little amused, but Freddie couldn’t know for sure because he was decidedly not looking at him. “Just, you seem pretty mad.” There was a pause. “At me?”

Expelling a breath through his nose, Freddie put his hands on his hips and glanced at him, trying to find the energy and will to act as though he was just dandy, thank you very much, and failing. 

“Well, if you must know,” he found himself saying instead, and then it was too late and his tongue, loosened by alcohol, produced the words before he could stop it, “I _am_ cross with you but I don’t see why that’s any of your concern, you seemed pretty busy in there...” Freddie waved his hand in the direction of the door before. “Having an absolute ball of a time, by all means, don’t let me stop you.”

Roger had narrowed his eyes, a frown on his face but the corner of his mouth twitching a little. If he was going to laugh at him, Freddie was going to have to shove him out of the way and just leave right this minute. But Roger kept his face straight as he spoke.

“Uhm,” he swallowed, licking over his lips briefly, and Freddie hated himself for noticing it. “You’re not... Are you... jealous?”

Freddie shrugged, his jaw set and his gaze firmly averted. Then he proceeded to utter the most unconvincing “no” in human history, the inflection so wrong it sounded as though he’d forgotten how to pronounce the word.

Roger sighed. And the very next moment, Freddie found himself utterly defenceless as the other man crossed the room, stepping right into his personal space. 

“So, I guess...” His voice quiet, Roger reached up, gently tugging the collar of Freddie’s coat into place, and Freddie forgot he was angry. Instead of pushing Roger away, he dropped his arms by his sides. In fact, it was likely that he forgot he had arms, too, in that moment. “I guess you wouldn’t be mad... if I...”

Roger never finished the sentence, but leaned in instead, slotting their mouths together. As tipsy as they were, the kiss was anything but a drunken snog. It was far too tentative and slow for that, only lips caressing each other at first, until Freddie opened his mouth wider and Roger took the invitation with a soft moan, hot tongue sliding into his mouth. It was just as well that Roger had wrapped an arm around his waist, because for all that tenderness, it was intense. Freddie felt a little shaky on his legs and slid a steadying hand around the back of Roger’s neck. This wasn’t like last time, like an oddly pleasant shock of static, sending a shiver through him. No, this _was_ the entire thunderstorm, making the small hairs on his arms and at the back of his neck stand on end. Exhilarating, like watching lighting tear across the night sky. And he was drenched in desire within moments, heart beating so fast he could barely breathe.

“Wow.” Funnily enough, that was Roger’s whisper against his lips, although Freddie wholeheartedly agreed. They pulled apart just enough to look at each other, a pair of matching, mildly ecstatic grins blooming on their faces.

“God, I should’ve done that sooner,” Roger murmured, shaking his head slightly.

“Yes,” Freddie couldn’t help but agree quite fervently. “Why didn’t you?”

“Scared,” Roger admitted simply, his expression turning serious. “So...”

“Not-” Bringing his hand around to Roger’s face, Freddie touched his fingertips to his lips, silencing him. “Not now,” he whispered. “Tomorrow. Please? Let me just... have this.”

Roger nodded wordlessly and took Freddie’s hand in his, kissing his fingertips before he moved it out of the way and leaned in again. Whatever needed to be said, could and would be said tomorrow. If nothing else, this moment was theirs.


End file.
